Massage
by Kilrez
Summary: On the day after the Torchwood team broke up a ring of rural cannibals, Ianto showed up for work, against Jack's orders. Jack never really got the hang of leaderly reprimands. Preslash


**Massage**

Because if I had someone like Ianto on my staff, I'd do this _way_ more often. Jack's just letting the side down.

* * *

On the day after the Torchwood team broke up a ring of rural cannibals, Ianto showed up for work.

The day before, Jack had sent everyone home direct from the hub, with Gwen and Ianto given orders to stay that way, until they were medically sound. Owen had offered to drive Gwen home, which made Jack smile, slightly bitterly. It wouldn't end well. He didn't care.

Ianto had left quietly, not in too much apparent pain. That didn't surprise Jack. For blunt trauma injury, the strong painkillers the paramedics had given him, and the immediacy of the injuries meant they wouldn't hit really badly until… the next day.

Which is when Ianto showed up. Against Jack's orders.

Jack looked up from their atmospheric scanning program to see him walk stiff-backed down the three steps from the entrance cage. Sighing, he put down his coffee cup and folded his arms, leaning back in the desk chair. Ianto calmly proceeded up the main staircase, towards the little kitchenette to start the real coffee percolating. It was the usual morning ritual- he always arrived at least 20 minutes early to make the coffee and ensure everything was organised.

Everything would have seemed as normal, save for the large, fresh bruise swelling on his forehead, and the way he carried himself. It screamed pain. Well, it screamed pain, in a very stiff-upper-lip, restrained and repressed type of way. Jack frowned, pushing himself to his feet. He could fathom why Ianto had come in, despite orders. That didn't mean he would get away with it.

'Ianto!' Jack called up the stairs, just able to see Ianto's back. His movements stilled, and he turned around to shoot an inquiring glance down at Jack. Jack indicated with his head. 'You're with me.' Without waiting for an answer that wouldn't come anyway, Jack detoured past his office before heading for the exit. Ianto put down the coffee beans and followed, face impassive.

'In here,' Jack told Ianto, when he appeared in the garage. Jack was leaning on the bonnet of the black Torchwood SUV, arms crossed over his chest.

At last, Ianto gave him questioning look. 'Where are we going?' he asked.

'You'll see,' replied Jack, taciturnly. He uncrossed his arms and extracted the keys from his coat pocket, which he had picked up from his office on his way out.

They drove in silence, until Ianto realised he recognised the route Jack was taking. 'I'm fine, sir. I don't need to go home.'

'Ianto, for starters you don't look fine. You got tenderised by a cannibal yesterday. And secondly, I told you to stay home. Regardless of how you were _feeling._'

'You've got better things to do than driving me home though,' replied Ianto, his voice devoid of emotion.

'Not right now I don't,' parried Jack lightly. Ianto didn't bother to reply. There was clearly no point arguing.

Jack parked right outside Ianto's apartment building and turned the vehicle off, which made Ianto look askance. 'Going to invite me in?' queried Jack with an insalubrious grin. Ianto arched a single eyebrow, and got out of the SUV.

Jack followed him up to the main door of the building, and then to the door of the ground level flat. All was quiet and deserted, the lights dim in the plain corridors. Ianto didn't look at him as he unlocked the front door, apparently resigned to Jack coming inside.

The door opened into a small entrance hall, where Ianto took off his suit jacket and shoes, putting them away neatly in a closet. Amused, Jack did the same, quickly transferring something from his coat to his trouser pocket, which Ianto, already walking away, failed to see.

Ianto led the way into the joint kitchen and dining area before turning around to face the intruder in his flat, putting his hands in his pockets and staring at Jack. 'Well?' he questioned. 'What now?'

'Sit down,' ordered Jack, indicating the sofa with a nod of his head. Ianto raised an eyebrow once again, but he did as he was told. Jack crossed to the door that was clearly a bathroom in the small flat, and returned mere moments later with a packet of paracetamol tablets. Ianto had leaned his head back on the back of the couch, but when he heard Jack ratting about in the kitchen, he raised it again to watch, small frown on his features.

'What are you doing?' he asked, the slightest hints of dubiousness in his tone.

In answer, Jack held up his hands, a glass of water in one, two white tablets in the other. He walked over to the sofa and sat next to Ianto, handing them to him.

Ianto didn't take the proffered drugs, instead staring at Jack blankly. 'I don't need them.'

'The stick up your behind begs to differ,' joked Jack. 'You're sitting like someone's fused your spine.'

'I can cope without pharmacy-strength painkillers,' replied Ianto dryly.

'Ianto, just do as you're told.' Jack's tone was mockingly weary, as though looking after Ianto was a strenuous burden.

Ianto took the water and the pills, if only to save himself from more of Jack's acting. Looking his boss right in the eye, he tossed both pills in his mouth and took a swig of water. Jack nodded. 'Drink all the water. Good to keep hydrated.'

Rolling his eyes at the obvious mothering, Ianto did so.

'Good. Now take of your shirt and lie on your stomach on the couch.'

That calm order got a double eyebrow raise. Jack wasn't looking. He'd stood and wandered over to the kitchen table, bringing back a low chair, which he set next to the couch.

'Are you going to fight me all the way?' he asked wryly, when he saw that Ianto hadn't moved.

'Mostly I'm just somewhat curious exactly what you're planning at this point,' countered Ianto smoothly.

Jack grinned. 'I can't deny an interest in seeing you out of your clothes, but just this once Ianto, my intentions are pure. I must be getting old.'

Still highly suspicious, Ianto undid his tie, pulling the knot all the way through and folding it in four before setting it on the ground. He undid the white shirt buttons one by one, again folding the garment and placing it on the ground. As his torso was revealed, Jack's gaze went from his face to his chest, and the severe bruising thereon.

He didn't make any reaction, eyes simply scanning the damages. Inside, Jack felt just a little bit sick. Make that a lot sick. This was his fault. Gods, he should have gotten there sooner. Shouldn't have asked Ianto to come. Should have realised what was going on.

The internal self-recriminations continued as Ianto carefully lowered himself onto his front on the couch. Jack swallowed hard, blinking several times now that Ianto couldn't see him. He tried to clear his mind of cause and effect, and just focus on the injuries themselves.

'Are we going to discover that you've got a medical degree on top of everything else?' Ianto's dry question, his voice unaffected by the severe bruised mess of his torso, managed to snap Jack out of it.

The man was laying tensely, with his arms crossed above his head, forehead resting on forearms so his voice was muffled by the sofa. Jack resettled himself on the low stool, bringing it level to Ianto's shoulders and as close to the couch as possible. 'No,' he replied honestly, 'but I do have a few useful skills for these situations.'

'"These situations"?' echoed Ianto.

'Yes,' replied Jack, refusing to elucidate. Ianto _really_ didn't need to know where he'd learnt this particular trade.

Vigorously rubbing his hands together to warm them, he gently placed flat palms on each of Ianto's shoulder-blades. There was an almost imperceptible tightening of muscle, but he didn't move or speak. Jack began by carefully gauging the extent and depth of damage, using his eyes and very careful fingers. Ianto didn't relax under the touch. Jack didn't blame him. It was hardly within the range of usual employer-employee relations.

As he mapped Ianto's back, Jack was glad that the room was fairly warm. He was beginning to realise this could take some time. Even so, he would consider getting up at some point and covering Ianto's legs with a blanket. No doubt they were equally bruised, and cold would only stiffen damaged muscles.

Starting as gently as he could at Ianto's shoulders, Jack began to trace his fingertips along the surface muscle fibres, outlining their path. He used just enough pressure to feel through the skin, but not enough to cause pain to any damaged areas. He was just feeling for knots and rigid zones- the places he needed to work. A lot of Ianto's injuries would only be solved by time, but some level of pain relief, and to a larger extent, relaxation, would be brought by a well given massage.

'You need to relax a little, or I won't be able to feel anything,' Jack told him, amused.

Ianto made a fairly poor effort to unclench the muscles along his shoulder blades. It was enough for Jack to start working. Using the tips of all ten digits, he applied slightly more pressure, palpitating across the grain of the muscle, over a particularly thickened area.

Ianto hissed quietly, tensing up again. Jack ignored this and kept up a repetitive motion over the sore area, using deeper and deeper pressure. Gradually, Ianto loosened his muscles, this time into a more genuine state of relaxation.

Forgetting anything but his fingertips for the moment, Jack dissipated the knot entirely, then moved onto the next zone. Once more, Ianto tensed up at the first hard press, then calmed and lay still. He was less unnerved now he realised what exactly Jack was doing. The fact that it hurt actually helped him more- if Jack had been giving him a pleasurable massage, it would have been plain weird.

That being said, with each knot that was worked out, the overall level of pain was dimming. Jack's fingers were skilful and sensitive, and after each pressure point of pain was removed, he briefly gave a broader massage, rubbing up Ianto's back with the heels of his palms. The entire sensation was relaxing. Ianto felt like he was melting down into a liquid puddle, warm, and painless, and safe…

Thoughts working sluggishly, Ianto frowned into his arms. He'd palmed the paracetamol tablets, they were in his shirt pocket on the ground. Yet… even the bruises on his legs weren't hurting, and Jack had gone nowhere near them. Ianto concentrated on his legs, seeing if he could feel a reminder twinge of the mess down there.

Nothing. And he really was too comfortable, too warm on this sofa. Even for the way Jack's talented hands were working, moving onto his lower back now.

'You drugged me,' slurred Ianto quietly, letting his eyes droop closed, since Jack couldn't see anyway.

There was a low chuckle from Jack, but his hands didn't stop work. 'In the water. Remind me someday to teach you how to be less obvious when you palm tablets.'

'What is it?' murmured Ianto, trying to remember why he cared. It really felt very nice. He was floating, wrapped in warm comfort like he hadn't known for a long time. The motion of Jack's hands had become less business-like, and was massaging in slow circles either side of his spine, sending pleasant tingles through his stomach.

'Just a mild mix of sedative and painkiller. To make sure you don't go over-exerting yourself while you're off work.'

Ianto couldn't work out words to reply, giving in and letting himself drift into sleep. Disembodied, he could still feel Jack's gentle fingers trailing over his skin, lightly mapping the unbruised patches.

Jack waited for five minutes after Ianto's breathing had evened out, faint smile on his face. He didn't know how upset the Welshman would be when he woke up, but it really didn't matter. He didn't trust Ianto to look after himself when he was injured like this. It was only logical that it became Jack's job.

Silently, Jack stood and crossed to the door that wasn't the toilet. It opened to a neat bedroom, and Jack cocked an eyebrow to see the perfectly made double bed within. Amused, he walked over and drew back the covers before returning to the living-room for Ianto.

Carefully, making sure that he was properly under, Jack rolled the limp form over on the couch. Ianto's eyes were shut, his features slack and his mouth slightly open. Smiling tenderly, Jack slid one arm beneath his shoulders, and one under his knees. Straightening up with a sleeping Ianto carried across his chest, he returned to the bedroom, where he gently laid Ianto down on the bed.

Ianto made a small sound as Jack unbuckled his belt, and Jack glanced at his peaceful face, curious. It seemed he was just settling into his dreams. Somewhat awkwardly, Jack dragged the neat suit trousers off, grimacing as yet more bruising was revealed. It probably wouldn't hurt to have given those some attention too, but with Ianto unconscious, that would be overstepping his mark. Same went for removing the generic white underwear, as much as that pained Jack.

Firmly restraining himself, Jack drew the covers up over the sleeping Ianto, tucking him snugly in. He stood there for a long moment, just watching his peaceful features, Ianto's face almost child-like in sleep.

It took some effort to tear himself away, but after several long minutes of minutely observing a sleeping Ianto, he stepped back, quietly shutting the bedroom door behind himself.

In the living room, he garnered a pen and a scrap of paper from the bench next to the phone, and scrawled out a quick note, before retrieving his coat and shoes and soundlessly leaving the apartment.

_Ianto,_

_Don't come in tomorrow._

_Love, Jack_

The End


End file.
